Free Adrenaline (Speed #2) by Kelly Elliott

glanced over to Paislie. My blue eyes holding onto her green as we both got lost momentarily in each other. “I do believe there might have been a hidden agenda to that oversized bone,” I softly spoke as she chuckled.
    Reaching into the larger picnic basket, I smiled when I pulled out the chicken salad on croissants. Janet knew how much I loved her chicken salad.
    “Hmm . . . I love chicken salad!” Paislie exclaimed.
    “Then you will really love this chicken salad. My assistant, Janet, makes it all from scratch. I’m not even going to ask her how she pulled this off because I’m pretty sure I’d be buying her and her husband tickets to some fabulous hotel in Mexico somewhere.”
    Paislie chuckled as I made up each plate. “So tell me,” she said as she pulled her knees up and rested her chin on them. I’d never seen anyone look so goddamn sexy yet cute as hell like she did that very moment. “How many girls have you done this with?”
    Giving her a look of hurt, I asked, “Done what with?”
    She motioned around with her hands and laughed. “This, Malcolm! This is incredible, and not to be cheesy or make you think I’m looking for something more here, but this is the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me.”
    When I looked back up at her, I couldn’t help but be taken aback by the light in her eyes. I found myself wanting to make her this happy every day, but at the same time I was bothered by the fact no other guy had taken the time to romance her.
    Jesus H. Christ. Where in the hell did that come from?
    “How many girls have you taken up on a rooftop and swooned them like this?”
    “That’s easy to answer. None. Well, actually one. You.”
    Her smile faded slightly as her eyes turned darker and she wrapped her arms around her legs and whispered, “Oh.”
    “I’m not much of a romance kind of guy.”
    She lifted a single eyebrow and gave me a disbelieving look. “I would love to see what you think would be romantic.”
    Handing her the plate with the sandwich, homemade chips and fresh fruit, I looked up and thought about it.
    “Holy crap. Did Janet make all of this?” She held up a chip.
    “Yep.”
    Her mouth slacked open as she said, “You better give her a damn good thank you!”
    I nodded. “Don’t worry, I’m booking their trip Monday.”
    Paislie took a bite and practically melted on the spot. “Oh. My. Goodness. Oh yes. This is so much better than what I make.”
    “Told you it was good,” I said as I took a bite.
    Paislie popped a chip into her mouth and leaned back on one hand as she looked intently at me. “So tell me about yourself, Malcolm. From what I read on the internet, you’re cocky, a manwhore, filthy rich, liked by a lot of people off the track, your nemesis retired this year opening it up for you to dominate each race, and you’re from Texas.”
    “Looks like you covered it.”
    Shaking her head, she took another bite. “You’re not even going to try and defend the manwhore thing?”
    “Nope. Pretty much all of that was true.” I looked up and thought for a second. “Yeah, no . . . all of it’s true.”
    A look of disappointment washed over her face as she quietly took another bite. “I’m cocky when I need to be, I am rich, I hope like hell people do like me for me and not for my money, Emmit . . . my nemesis as you called him . . . did retire from racing, which still pisses me off.”
    “Why does that make you mad?”
    With a shrug, I replied, “He’s good. Damn good.”
    She leaned closer and asked, “Better than you?”
    “If I’m being honest?”
    Nodding her head, she gasped. “Always be honest, Malcolm. It’s a very enduring quality about a person.”
    Her smile made my stomach drop. “Okay. Yes, he is better than me. Best driver I’ve ever raced against. He kept me on my toes. Made me strive to be the best I could be so I could take him down each week.”
    “Wow,” Paislie said in a hushed tone.
    With a dry laugh, I shook my head.